


When Faith and Fear Collide

by denorios



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-11
Updated: 2010-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-10 12:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denorios/pseuds/denorios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Wagon Train make-up sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Faith and Fear Collide

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to the ever-wonderful farad - this one was particularly tough to write, and I was living in dread of the purple prose! Dedicated to slavelabour who inspired me with Phantom Fingers - I promise there aren't any in this fic!

Vin closes his eyes and wonders when he became such a coward.

Chris is crouched beside him in the darkness, so close the warmth of his body merges with the heat from the campfire at his back and Vin can't distinguish between Chris and the flames. He feels Chris reach out hesitantly, a slight tremble in his hand, a stifled hitch in his breath, and carefully lift the hat away from Vin's face. Vin lies motionless beneath Chris' gaze, muscles aching with the strain of holding so still, and concentrates on regulating his breathing, keeping it deliberately slow and steady.

He's avoiding Chris. He knows he is. He doesn't want to, doesn't want to prolong this strained tension between them, but Chris is looking for answers and Vin has none to give, none that would make sense to Chris. He doesn't know how to respond to the questions he can almost hear hanging silently in the air. _Would you have gone? If O'Shea's men hadn't come, would you have turned your back and gone? Would you have left us? Would you have left me?_

Chris sighs heavily and Vin can feel the damp warmth of his breath puff across his face. It's such a hopeless sigh, full of sadness and longing, and he wants more than anything to open his eyes, to sit up and face Chris and tell him he would never have left, could never leave. But he doesn't know what the truth is anymore or if Chris would even believe him if he didn't know.

A week ago he would have said that wild horses couldn't tear him from Chris' side, that not even the threat of hanging could make him leave, but that was before. Before Charlotte, before Brazil. Would he have left? He doubts it. When he thinks about Charlotte, it's as though he's outside of himself, a different man, watching his own actions and taking no part in them. He doesn't recognize himself.

He's ashamed. That's the truth. When he thinks about Charlotte, he doesn't feel love or lust or even affection. He feels shame. He used her, and perhaps she was using him too, but that doesn't excuse his actions. Vin has always thought of himself as, if not perhaps a good man, then a man trying to be better. He's proud of his name, proud of his family, and he's always tried to live up that. Being a Tanner means something, and today isn't the first time he's fallen short, but it hurts just the same.

The memory of Charlotte has blurred and faded in his mind already, and he knows she would only ever have been a replacement, a poor substitute for the only thing he's ever wanted. Even holding her felt wrong - soft flesh instead of hard muscle, curves instead of jutting bone, the sweet smell of roses and soap in place of harsh sweat and gunpowder.

She was everything Chris Larabee isn't, and perhaps that was the attraction. Charlotte had needed him, needed him to save her, to take care of her - and Chris doesn't need anyone to save him. He doesn't need anyone to love him either, has perfected the art of pushing away anyone who might be inclined to do so, but Vin isn't anyone and he won't be pushed.

Vin has always been aware of this pulse between them, from the moment they met, the moment he lifted his head and caught Chris' eye across the street. He remembers feeling an almost physical shock run through him, desire burning hot and fierce beneath his skin. It's never subsided from that day on. He's fought it with whiskey and women, gunfights and horse races, bar brawls and the endless open solitude of the night sky, and it's still there, his constant companion. He's come to accept that he'll never be free of it; that wherever he is and whomever he's with, he'll never be anything other than Chris'.

It's only recently that Vin has started to realize that perhaps this desire is mutual, only recently that he's started to see the same hot leap in Chris' eyes. The possibilities frighten him, and Vin knows he was avoiding Chris even before Charlotte and the wagon train. It's too much, the endless depth of his need for Chris, too much to have everything he's ever wanted within in reach, possible, tangible; to know that perhaps Chris wants him as much as he wants Chris. He's afraid to let go, afraid to reach out.

He never knew he was such a coward.

"Vin," Chris murmurs, a sad and lonely sound, and Vin feels the whisper of fingers running down his cheek, a thumb brushing gently across his temple and eyebrow. He wants to turn his face into that caress, wants to pull Chris down beside him and sink into his skin, wants to be covered by Chris, consumed by him. He wants Chris so badly, so urgently, and it's wrong, he knows it's wrong.

He hears Chris' boot scrape in the dirt, feels the shift in the air as he begins to rise to his feet, and before he knows what he's doing Vin's hand shoots out and grabs Chris' wrist, holding him in place. "Don't," he says urgently and opens his eyes, looks up.

In the darkness Chris is just a silhouette against the brightness of the fire, a black shape blotting out the stars, but Vin doesn't need light to see Chris' face. He doesn't even need eyes. He's memorized every line, every shadow, the bright gleam of his hair and the shine of his eyes, the curve of his smile and the line of his back. Vin would know Chris anywhere.

"Don't," Vin says again, and he can hear the desperation tingeing his voice. He tugs on Chris' wrist, pulling him back, pulling him down. "Stay. Chris, stay."

He feels frantic all of a sudden: his heart is pounding, his breath is coming fast and heavy and he can feel the sweat breaking out on his forehead. The urgency of his need shocks him. His whole world seems to narrow down to this, Chris' wrist in his hand, Chris' eyes locked on his, the darkness of the night and the light of the fire and the two of them caught in-between.

"Chris," Vin chokes, and he lives and dies a thousand times in the time it takes Chris to nod and gulp in air and settle on the bedroll beside him.

Vin rolls onto his side, the long length of Chris stretched out beside him, still and watchful, and he can't stop himself, can't help himself, not with Chris here beside him, so near and so willing. He spreads his fingers across Chris' cheek, the tips just catching the hair at his temple, soft and warm and slightly damp, and his thumb brushes gently across Chris' upper lip. He holds his breath, waiting for Chris to move, to leap back, to hit him, to say something, but Chris is silent. His eyes gleam in the firelight, hooded and lazy, and his lips part slightly. When Vin's thumb dips into the moist heat of his mouth they both moan.

Vin glances across at the other campfire, at the huddled sleeping lumps of the others. He and Chris had been left alone by some tacit conspiracy, Buck and Josiah spreading their rolls some distance away when they stopped for the night, the others following suit after some hesitation, Mary more vocal than the rest. Vin knows they were giving them space, time apart to talk and clear the air, but he had unrolled his bedroll and lain down immediately, pulling his hat low over his face and ignoring Chris. He hadn't wanted to talk. He still doesn't want to. Talking is the last thing on his mind right now.

"It's alright," Chris whispers, turning onto his side to face Vin. "Buck snores so loud they won't hear anything." He grins quickly and his teeth flash white in the darkness. His face is close to Vin's and he feels as though he's sharing Chris' every breath. It's so intimate he has to close his eyes for a moment to steady himself. He's shaking all over, his heart is thundering in his chest, his cock is hard and heavy against his thigh, and for a moment he's sure, so absolutely sure, that when he opens his eyes Chris will be gone.

He shifts onto his knees slightly, rising up and over Chris, his weight balanced on one hand while the other pushes Chris onto his back. Chris lies quietly beneath him, body pliant and relaxed, but there's a prominent bulge in his black jeans and he hisses sharply as Vin's knee brushes across his groin.

Vin's hand moves from Chris' shoulder to his neck, knuckles dragging across Chris' Adam's apple, watching it leap and bob as Chris swallows hard, before dropping to trace the strong line of his collarbone through his shirt. Chris' hand covers Vin's, pulling it down to rest over his heart. It's beating as hard as Vin's and for a long moment he pauses, closing his eyes again and just listening to the strong rhythm.

"Vin," Chris says quietly beneath him, drawing his attention back. "You with me?" His fingers tighten on Vin's and before Vin can respond he reaches up with his free hand, curls his palm around the back of Vin's neck and draws Vin's mouth down to his own.

His lips are soft against Vin's, his tongue wet and warm, and Vin finds himself humming gently as it slides against his own. The kiss is lazy and languid and Chris seems in no hurry, pulling back to nip at Vin's lips, pressing forward to explore his mouth. Chris tastes sweet, with just a slight sour hint of whiskey, and Vin thinks he could live off this, could go the rest of his days just sipping from Chris' mouth.

Chris runs his tongue over a sensitive spot behind Vin's teeth and Vin shudders with pleasure, breath coming in panting gasps. He can feel Chris shifting below him and he lowers himself carefully until he's draped over Chris, thigh pressed between Chris'. He presses his face into Chris' neck, tongue flitting out to taste his skin, salty with sweat and a sweet dry scent behind it like hay. He traces a path up Chris' neck with his tongue, nuzzling his nose into the sweat-damp hair and takes Chris' earlobe gently in his teeth.

Chris' hips twitch restlessly beneath him, rocking against Vin's thigh, and he murmurs incoherently. He licks at a spot behind Vin's ear and Vin hears himself make a high keening noise, hips jerking forward instinctively. Through the haze of arousal he hears Chris chuckle at the back of his throat and do it again, and again Vin can't stop himself, thrusting helplessly. Chris' hand moves to the small of Vin's back and he presses down until Vin is hard against him, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, and they're rutting against each other, cocks rubbing together through the layers of clothing.

"C-Chris," Vin grates, his voice raw and ragged and shockingly loud in the night air. Chris' presses hard against Vin's back as he raises his hips, and the sudden pressure makes Vin throw his head back and groan. Chris rears up beneath him, teeth latching onto the muscle standing out in Vin's neck, and he bites down carefully. Vin nearly comes there and then, but it's too quick, too soon, and he rolls back to the side, hands fumbling at Chris' pants. He needs to feel him, needs the smooth silk of Chris' skin against his own, needs to know the warm weight of Chris in his hand.

"Wait. Vin. Stop."

Chris' words are slow to penetrate the fog of arousal in Vin's mind and Chris has to catch at his hands, holding them hard against his belly.

"Vin, wait."

Chris tilts his head back to catch Vin's eyes, but Vin jerks back hard, pulling his hands from Chris'. Has he misread Chris so badly? Did Chris not want this? He feels a hot flush rising up his neck and he has to get away, he can't stay here with Chris, not like this. He feels flayed wide open, utterly humiliated, and his only thought is of flight and the comforting darkness of the night.

Chris must see the impulse in his eyes, must read something there, because he rolls over suddenly, trapping Vin beneath his body, holding his wrists firm on the ground either side of his head. His eyes are dark and intense, and Vin can still feel Chris' cock pressing against him. He's drunk on sensation, dizzy with lust, senses confused and overwhelmed, and he can't think straight.

"Don't you dare run out on me," Chris growls. "Not now. Not again." Vin can feel the deep rumble of Chris' voice and it makes him shiver. They're both breathing hard, Chris' chest heaving against his own. For such a lean man his weight is heavy on Vin, but it's welcome. It's something solid, something real. Chris is here with him and he's not pushing him away, he's not rejecting him.

"I'm not," Vin pants, shaking his head. "I won't. But you-"

Chris cuts him off with a kiss, mouth hard and demanding on Vin's. His tongue forces its way into Vin's mouth, taking ownership, and Vin opens his mouth wider, needing more of Chris, needing all of him. As soon as he begins to respond, the kiss changes, softens into something slow and surprisingly tender. Chris begins to rock against him gently, and his tongue mimics the movements of his lower body. He releases Vin's wrists and lays one hand along Vin's cheek, the other stroking through his hair.

"I just want you to slow down," Chris whispers into Vin's mouth and turns his head, pressing soft kisses along Vin's jaw line. He nibbles at Vin's neck, his tongue darting out to soothe each bite, and Vin finds himself arching his back, pushing his groin harder against Chris' and offering up his neck to Chris' mouth.

Chris sinks both hands into the unruly mass of Vin's hair, drawing his fingers through the tangled waves, and Vin takes advantage of his moment of distraction to roll them both again, until Chris is pinned beneath him. He straddles Chris' hips, groaning softly as the new angle nudges his aching cock hard against Chris' pelvis. Chris' hands settle on his thighs, guiding Vin's movements as he thrusts gently. From this new position Vin can take control and he pulls at Chris' pants, sliding each button free with exquisite care. He rises up onto his knees as Chris lifts his hips enough for Vin to slide the tight fabric down.

He pauses for a moment, distracted and utterly delighted at the sight beneath him: Chris Larabee, gunslinger, bad element, a dangerous man to cross, moody and mercurial, spread out before him like a banquet, glassy-eyed and panting with pleasure. His thick cock stands proudly away from the dark crisp curls at his groin. As he watches, entranced, a flush spreads across Chris' neck and cheeks and he can see the heavy balls draw up and tighten under his gaze.

Vin has never seen anything more beautiful than Chris Larabee in this moment, wanton and aroused, lying completely open and trusting beneath him. His fingers itch to touch Chris, and when Chris moans and reaches for his own cock, for relief, Vin bats his hand away and replaces it with his own.

Chris feels like hot silk beneath his stroking fingers, like silk and steel, hot and throbbing and already slick with arousal. Chris throws his head back at Vin's first touch, eyes slipping closed, teeth clamped on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. His head tosses restlessly from side to side and when Vin reaches out to wipe the smudge of red from Chris' mouth he draws Vin's thumb into his mouth, suckling on it, tongue swirling around the knuckles. Vin can't help but think about where else such a skill could be put to use.

Chris' hands are sliding up and down Vin's thighs in long slow strokes, reaching up to cup Vin's swollen groin before flitting away, each tortuous caress drawing a muted groan from Vin until he can't bear the teasing and takes Chris' hand and presses it hard against his straining pants. Chris traces the shape of his cock through the fabric with one hand, the other skillfully slipping each button free until he can reach in and draw Vin's cock out.

The cool night air on his heated skin makes Vin suck in a breath and his hand stills its motions on Chris' cock. Chris sits up beneath Vin and reaches to draw him close, one hand curving around the nape of his neck. For a moment they sit motionless, foreheads pressing together, hands on each other's cocks, overwhelmed and overcome by the nearness of the other. Vin can't remember when he's ever felt safer or more vulnerable. He can't help but think of the others, sleeping only yards away, and yet he couldn't stop this if he tried, wouldn't even begin to try.

There's an inevitability about tonight, about what is happening between them. He and Chris have been on a collision course since the day they met, since Vin first felt that spark of heat and desire crackling through his body. He finds himself almost thankful for Charlotte, for Mary and Gerard, for everyone who ever loved and wanted Chris, because without them he knows he would never have found himself here, lonely and hurt and desperate enough to reach out for the only thing that makes sense, only to find him reaching right back.

"Watch," Chris whispers, his tongue darting out to trace the curve of Vin's ear, smiling as Vin shivers helplessly. Vin drops his head to Chris' shoulder, watching as Chris curves Vin's palm around both of their cocks, his own fingers entwining with Vin's and guiding his movements. The sensation is almost too much, Chris' hand hard on his, the soft slickness of Chris' cock sliding against his own, the rough calluses on his palm catching on his sensitive skin, and he closes his eyes.

Deprived of sight, everything feels more immediate, more intense. He can feel the muscles in Chris' shoulder flexing beneath his cheek, the slight tremble that runs through Chris with each stroke. He can hear the soft wheeze at the back of Chris' throat as his breathing quickens and the wet rasp of his fingers against their cocks. He can smell the telltale musk of sex and sweat on Chris' skin, and his tongue flits out again to taste him.

When he opens his eyes again, Chris is watching him, pupils blown and dark with passion. The intensity of that gaze, the hidden current of emotion in those eyes that are normally so guarded and shuttered is enough to push Vin over the edge, and he comes with a choked gasp, biting down on Chris' collarbone to stifle the sound. His fingers tighten on their cocks and he feels the surge and swell as Chris jerks and spasms, a guttural moan vibrating in his throat.

Chris slumps against him, his chest heaving, his face turned into Vin's neck. Vin tucks Chris back into his pants, even that most gentle of touches drawing a renewed groan from Chris, before doing the same to himself. He wraps his free arm around Chris' shoulders and eases him gently back to the ground before collapsing beside him, one leg still crooked over Chris'. He listens to the sound of their harsh breathing in the still air, and he knows with absolute certainty that if he turned his head and looked at Chris he would have the same giddy satiated grin plastered across his face, the same mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion.

He can't stop smiling. He wonders if he'll ever be able to stop. Buck will only need to take one look at their faces in the morning to know exactly what they spent the night doing, and Vin knows he should care about that, knows they will need to be more circumspect, but he can't stop smiling.

His fingers are sticky with their combined seed, rapidly cooling in the night air, and he reaches for the bandanna around his neck to wipe it off. Chris stops him, dark eyes opening slowly, lazily, and brings Vin's hand to his mouth. He draws each finger into his mouth slowly, eyes fixed on Vin's, tongue lapping and swirling until each digit is clean. Vin can only shudder and moan, transfixed by the sight of his fingers disappearing into Chris' warm mouth, by the sensation of Chris' tongue on his skin. When Chris releases his hand and licks his lips, Vin can't resist leaning in to taste himself on Chris' tongue.

"You keep that up, cowboy," he breathes, "I'm gonna want to do this again."

"That's fine with me," Chris smiles and runs a gentle hand over Vin's head. He seems entranced with Vin's hair, can't stop running his fingers through it, nuzzling his face into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, letting it run across the backs of his hands. Vin never knew his scalp was so sensitive: he's almost purring like a cat, rubbing against Chris' hands.

"After all..." Chris is murmuring against his hair, words muffled but still audible. "We're not going anywhere. Right?" He lifts his head and stares at Vin, the words deliberately casual but the meaning clear. His eyes are dark and intense and the hands in Vin's hair are still and rigid. He watches Vin, waiting.

Vin shakes his head wordlessly, his throat too tight for speech. He can only kiss Chris, long and deep and slow, and hopes he understands that if Chris' word is his bond, then Vin's kiss is his. He's always been Chris', always, since that very first day, but he's sealing his promise with a kiss now, and nothing short of a bullet or hangman's noose can make him break it.

"No," he chokes finally. "I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
